


Blood

by seki



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (Ignoct if you squint hard enough), Don’t copy to another site, Modern Regency, Other, Zine: Sagefire: And Ignis Scientia Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 16:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19872382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seki/pseuds/seki
Summary: Written for Sagefire, an Ignis Scientia Fanzine. This is about family, however one defines the word.





	Blood

Ignis paused at the door of the King's quarters. It stood ajar. The guards had apparently retreated as far from said door as was possible without abandoning their posts.

Noctis had been seen coming this way.

Oh, hellfires. Not today, Ignis begged the ever-silent Astrals. Let Noctis not be fighting with his father _today_.

Noctis strode out of the door, and then stopped in his tracks, glaring at Ignis. "And I bet you knew how sick he was."

There was no good answer, not with the King likely within earshot. Ignis just dipped his head, an acknowledgement of his complicity.

"How _dare_ you—"

"I am bound to keep my word, Noct." Ignis lifted his head. "He didn't want you to worry."

"I worry! And I care about him! He's my dad! Can't you understand that?"

Ignis aimed for soothing. "Of course I understand."

"Really?" Noctis's eyes were suspiciously red-eyed. "I call bull." He raised his arm and shrugged off Ignis's hand. "Like you care about your family. You're worse than Dad." He pushed past Ignis, and off down the corridor.

Ignis stared after him.

"He doesn't mean it," the King said, softly, opening the door.

"Your Majesty," Ignis said, automatically, turning towards the King, bowing his head respectfully. "My apologies. I should have reminded him of the date."

"Ah."

"I take full responsibility for my lapse, sir."

"I wouldn't impose on anyone that they should remind my son of his mother's death." King Regis sounded kind, if weary. "Are you needed in the Citadel today, do you know?"

"I… no, I don't believe so." Ignis had booked the time off, had been intending to treat Noctis, somehow, to ameliorate the anniversary he'd assumed Noctis would remember. Perhaps a fishing trip, he'd thought, or some sort of expedition in the wilder spaces Noctis favoured. But Noctis, after snapping like that, would avoid him for the rest of the day.

"Go visit your family."

It was a command, and it stung a little, so close on the heels of Noctis's accusation. "Sir?"

"My son cannot see his mother. But you can. Go spend time with her, Ignis."

\--

The Scientia family was a noble one, nearly as old as Insomnia itself and with a heavy weight of tradition threaded through it. Ignis, as the oldest boy of his generation, had been fulfilling an ancient duty by being sent to serve the Crown, although even within his family the age at which he'd begun to do so was unusual.

Precocious, his family had called him, proudly, and lucky too, to be so close in age to Prince Noctis. Scientia hadn't been called to such _close_ service in many generations. It was an honour.

Ignis's parents had, Ignis thought, in the darker reaches of his mind, set out to spin that honour into status with alacrity. His mother was now one of the grand matriarchs of Insomnia; his father famed for investments and patronage alike. They no longer flaunted Ignis's rank. They didn't have to.

Of course, Ignis needed no invitation to visit the family house, in the most expensive district of Insomnia. But his parents received a thousand gilded invitations a year, and there was no guarantee they would be at home if Ignis didn't call ahead and inform them of his visit. Perhaps not even his sister would be there, now she was of prime age to be taken around to meet eligible bachelors.

That thought kept Ignis in good spirits all the way there; it was a pleasantly cool day, the Royal Park he walked through was fragrant with blossom, and the serving staff would tell his family that he'd _attempted_ to visit, which would please them. And he wouldn't have to see them, which would please _him_.

The family home was built in a grand style from a few centuries ago, with carefully cultivated ivy crawling up the walls that faced the park. It was beautiful, Ignis thought, in a distant way.

"Master Ignis," old Eugene said, as he opened the door. "How splendid to see you."

"Thank you. Are my parents at home?"

"They are indeed. His Lordship is in his study, and your mother and sister are at home to visitors in the Blue Room."

Ignis repressed a sigh. "Please let them know I'm here."

"Certainly, sir. Please wait here."

\--

The Blue Room—which Ignis couldn't recall the decor or size of, offhand—was, apparently, not appropriate for a _family_ gathering. Ignis was shown instead into what he immediately dubbed the Monotone Room: a large room styled in a very modern fashion, all blocky oversized furniture and geometrically-patterned walls, and everywhere the same platinum and brushed steel tones. Ignis's mother and sister were seated demurely on the wide settee, with Ignis's father in a wingback seat by the window.

They were all dressed in the height of noble fashion. His father's tasteful, dark-green suit was embellished along the cuffs and lapels with silver embroidery. His mother's emerald gown looked to be fine silk, tailored at neck and waist to emphasise the trimness of her figure despite her years, and matching jewels glimmered at her neck and wrists and dotted her elegant coiffure.

Ignis's sister Remila practically glowed in her pale pink dress, a somewhat more daring cut than their mother's, her hair curled and spilling down one shoulder. It was a courting-dress, Ignis suddenly realised, so perhaps his family were expecting suitors to be calling for her. That would explain the carefully coordinated outfits his parents were sporting, too. The Scientias, a united front of wealth and privilege, ready to be petitioned.

He smoothed a hand down his own simple waistcoat, feeling distinctly underdressed. His father made a polite gesture, and Ignis crossed to the indicated chair, trying not to look uncomfortable.

"Son," his mother said, and she batted away his sister's hands and picked up the teapot herself. "How lovely to see you."

"And you; I apologise for not forewarning you."

"Nonsense, we know how busy you are. Any time you can spare for us is a blessing." His mother poured out a terribly weak-looking tea, first for his father and then for Ignis. "Is this merely a social call?"

"Yes. I wished to catch up."

That earned him smiles all around.

"Father," Ignis said, picking up his cup and saucer. "Any new artists you're sponsoring?"

His father was happy to talk, when prompted on the subject of art investment. Remila kept sneaking glances at the clock above the mantel, but was clearly too well-trained to visibly _squirm_. Ignis's mother kept refilling Ignis's cup, occasionally signalling for the footman to renew the pot.

"And you," Ignis's father said—and Ignis was certain it was in response to some signal from Ignis's mother that Ignis missed—eventually. "How is the Prince?"

"Very well," Ignis said. He could scarcely say elsewise; even if Noctis were currently in the grip of a mania for starting fires, Ignis would be obliged to blandly say he was well. "He's a diligent student," Ignis added, letting a shred of real pride creep in. "And an excellent warrior."

That earned approving nods from both parents. 

"And I," Ignis said, "well, I believe—"

A polite cough from the doorway interrupted him. "Master Mantiva is here, m'Lord."

"Ah, thank you, Eugene."

Ignis's mother and sister both rose, obligating Ignis to do so, too. Remila had her eyes turned downwards, and showed a faint blush on her cheeks that might only be a trick of her gown's tone.

"Your sister," Ignis's father said, waving a hand dismissively, "is courting. I'm not needed for Mantiva, am I, dear?"

Ignis's mother straightened her spine, more regal in bearing than Ignis's own Prince had ever managed. "No, I don't believe so." She dipped into a slight curtsey towards Ignis's father and then turned and repeated it towards Ignis, to Ignis's surprise. "Do visit again, Ignis."

"I'll try."

His mother nodded and left the room, Ignis's sister bobbing quick curtseys to both of the men as she followed.

"Son," Ignis's father said, leaning back in his seat. "We're holding a ball, for your sister's engagement."

Ignis raised an eyebrow, surprised as he sat down. "So soon? Is she not courting right now?"

"It's impending." His father waved his hand again. "Not Mantiva, of course, he's far too young. Your sister has far more suitable suitors, and will likely receive a good offer in the next few days. We'll expect your presence at the ball."

Ignis felt his stomach churn. His sister, only seventeen, would be married to someone, as if society hadn't moved on from such practises in two generations. "I'll attend if I can," he said, attempting to hide his distaste.

"Yes, of course, we understand your first obligation is to the Crown," his father said, testily. "But as your family, we do hope for _some_ of your time at important events."

"I will do my best," Ignis said, firmly. "I do think she's too young," he added, marvelling at himself for doing so.

"In my experience, son, men prefer to marry younger women. She won't get better offers if we wait."

And that was _pure_ misogyny, Ignis thought. "Mm."

"She hasn't protested." Ignis's father leant forward again. "Of course," he said, his voice lowered conspiratorially, as if there weren't two footmen at the ready against the walls of the room, "if your reticence is because an even better match might come on the market—"

His father meant _Noctis,_ Ignis realised, and he held up both hands immediately, his temper snapping. "No, no. Merely that times are moving, father. Men now prefer their wives to be women rather than children."

A flaring of the nostrils and a widening of the eyes were visible signs that the comment had struck home. "Well," Ignis's father grated out, levering himself up from his chair. "You think we're, what, forcing her?"

"No, you've made her believe this is acceptable, which is worse." Ignis rose, too, thanking his mother's genes for giving him the height advantage here. "While we're at it, since when does this family need to auction off its only daughter to the highest bidder? A tad gauche, don't you think?"

His father's face, already pink-tinged with anger, darkened further. "How dare you. My own blood, and you think you can talk to me like this?"

"I'll see myself out," Ignis said, and pushed past his father to the door. "Farewell, father."

\--

Eugene insisted on going to fetch Ignis's coat, which meant Ignis was alone in the front entranceway when a knock sounded on the door. Curious, he peered out of the slim window next to the front door.

Noctis, windswept, was standing on the steps in one of his smartest suits, apparently examining his own shoes.

Oh, heavens. If his parents saw the Crown Prince at their door like this...

Ignis wrenched the door's locks open, as quickly as he could, hoping Noctis wouldn't see the bell button before he managed to open the blasted thing.

"Hi," Noctis began, "I was—oh. It's you." He squared his shoulders. "Good. Look, can we talk?"

Noctis must have tracked him here. Ignis checked over his shoulder, quickly. "Go to the park. Wait by the first bench; I'll be there in a second."

"Uh—"

"Go!"

Ignis shut the door, hoping that slamming a door in the Prince's face wasn't in fact going to result in some kind of later problem. He was just in time; Eugene rounded the corner with his coat.

"Checking the weather," Ignis said, to cover the unlocked and unbolted door. "In case I needed an umbrella. Thank you, Eugene."

"Master."

Thank the heavens, Noctis wasn't there when Eugene opened the door again. Ignis pulled his coat on quickly, and headed for the park.

Noctis was by the bench, arms wrapped around himself defensively. "What the hell?"

"My parents would have dragged you inside and fussed over you," Ignis said, honesty his only defense. Noctis immediately softened both his pose and expression, and Ignis felt _one_ anxiety diminish. "At the rate they're going, they'd have you engaged to my sister within the hour. Best to spare you that."

"Huh."

"What did you need from me?"

"I, uh. Gladio asked me when I was gonna go visit my Mom's grave." Noctis looked away, towards the park interior. "I shouldn't have yelled at Dad, or you."

Ignis frowned. "Noct, you were upset."

"It's still not cool to take it out on you. And, um. I can't face going to the family tombs alone."

"I'm sure your father would accompany you."

"Dad goes alone. He always goes alone. I think he doesn't want me to see him cry." Noctis looked directly at Ignis now, mercifully not seeming as if _he_ would cry. That didn't mean Noctis hadn't been fretting; he must have been picking the skin on his lips again, making them look unnaturally pink and chapped. " _I_ don't want to see him cry. Please, Specs."

Ignis nodded. "Of course. Now?"

"Mmhmm." Noctis nods. "Please."

\--

They stopped off at a florist's shop on the way. The pretty bouquet of white sylleblossoms that Noctis picked out was hopelessly under-elaborate, given the attention that would be given to the grave on this day, but Ignis hadn't the heart to demand alterations, and perhaps the simplicity itself would indicate how heartfelt the intention was.

The Royal Tombs themself were on the estates of the Caelum family, a quarter-mile from the Citadel. The entrance was held open, today, and Noctis took the lead as they entered and descended the short flight of steps that led down to his mother's tomb.

There were flowers already laid on the stone, colorful tributes to a Queen fondly remembered by her people. Ignis could see no flowers from King Regis, but perhaps, as Noctis had implied, he would attend later for a private visit.

Noctis knelt, and laid his flowers, and bowed his head.

Ignis tried to imagine himself, bent with such grief for his mother. It wasn't easy. But Noctis had been young when she'd passed. Perhaps Ignis would have fonder thoughts towards his own family had they been ripped from him when he was young.

It was a thought that made him consider further. His parents hadn't felt like _parents_ since he went to the Citadel as a child. Even his sister, pleasant though she seemed, felt like merely a passing acquaintance. The way his family lived lived their lives felt alien to him, as if they unquestioningly followed some silent script of tradition and _duty_.

Noctis stood, and without looking extended his hand backwards. Ignis took it, and stepped forward to stand by Noctis's side.

It was what King Regis had asked of him, so many years ago. It had given him a purpose, a life that challenged and fulfilled him, and a friend dearer than any _family_ Ignis had ever known.

Noctis's fingers laced tightly with his own.

To hell with blood, Ignis thought.

One could _choose_ one's own family.

**Author's Note:**

> We never see Ignis's immediate family in game, and he never mentions them. His uncle works in the Citadel, and somewhere in the extra materials for the game there are these two nuggets of information: Ignis is of a high noble rank, and the Scientia family are traditionally retainers to the King of Lucis.
> 
> I've love Regency stories, so the chance to slide a Regency-style background in for Ignis was too much to resist. :)


End file.
